Thoughts from the back of Nancy’s car on the way to Incheon Airport
Your conversation draws me from my own sullen facade.
A rhythm of friendly banter, of our not wanting to say goodbye.
see each tree, newly planted, on those artificial hills, adjacent to Samsung ads,
bright as the angry dawn. I hear the tires cross each crease, a tap, tap, tap lingering beneath your joyful chatter.
I hear a pulse. At the airport now. We can only muster a meek goodbye.